The More Things Change
by donutsweeper
Summary: One night Jack's wanderings aboard the TARDIS bring him face to face with a former traveler, Jamie.


When he first arrived he thought the TARDIS seemed endless: twisting passageways, halls turning in on themselves, and rooms that seem to spring up from nowhere. And the way the noises would echo; it was eerie. It wasn't that she... it... the TARDIS? It wasn't that Jack really thought that it - no - she was alive, but there were times when he wasn't entirely sure that she wasn't. She'd been the Doctor's home for hundreds of years before Jack ever stepped foot inside and there were times when that history seemed to bleed through the walls. He'd think he'd heard laughter, but there was no one around. Once, he had awakened from a deep sleep when, in his dream, a young woman yelled for her grandfather; it was only a dream, wasn't it? It had to be.

Occasionally, especially when he was tired, he would catch a flash of something out of the corner of his eye. A dangling scarf. Something metal gliding along the floor. A stalk of celery. Celery? A tartan. Once, when he walked into the control room he swore - for a split second there- the room was sterile and white, but in the time it took him to blink it was suddenly back to normal. Was he losing his mind? Or was it a trick of the TARDIS? Was she playing games with him?

Who else had walked these halls? What was the Doctor to them? What were they to the Doctor? What became of them?

It was late, not that time mattered aboard the TARDIS, but it was very late and Jack knew he should be in his bed, asleep. Or in someone's bed, but he was walking the corridors. He was wandering, with no real destination in mind. He was tired, bone-weary, but he had to keep moving. The whispers were everywhere tonight. They wouldn't let him be. She wouldn't let him be.

Eyes closed, his pace slow, his hand glided along the wall. He'd give her this opportunity, let her take him where he was supposed to go, where she wanted him to go. Maybe she'd lead him somewhere, or maybe she'd finally leave him alone. Either one worked for him.

The noises were louder. If he opened his eyes what would he see? His TARDIS, with its comfortable coral, or that cold harsh one of the past? Where was he? When was he? Did it matter?

A voice grew distinct and separated out of the swirling whispers. A Scots accent. Male. A young man, younger than him, or more innocent anyway. Not that it mattered. For some reason that surprised Jack, but why? The Doctor had traveled with men before, hadn't he? Of course he had, why wouldn't he?

"What's the matter with the TARDIS, Doctor? It keeps going wrong all the time."

The voice was muffled, the reply even more so. Jack stopped dead in his tracks. Running into an earlier, or later, version of the Doctor wouldn't be a good idea. Future consequences and blah blah blah. He took a step back as voices from then cascaded around him, bouncing off walls, making him nauseous as time rippled and tore through him. Despite his eyes being closed he could see colors everywhere. Then the floor suddenly tilted under his feet and Jack was thrown against the wall.

The next thing Jack knew he was curled up on the floor. Over his pounding head he could barely make out the soft sound of footsteps approaching. He felt a hand on his forehead. "Doctor?"

"No. I can get him for you though. Stay here." It was the Scots voice he heard earlier.

"Wait, don't go." Jack's eyes flew open. "Who are you?"

"Jamie. Jamie McCrimmon. Who are you?"

Jack tried to focus on the boy. The man. The young man with brown hair falling in his eyes. "Jack." He kept his answer simple. "Am I still on the TARDIS?"

"Aye." If Jamie was concerned that a stranger was suddenly aboard the TARDIS he didn't show it.

"Your TARDIS or mine?" He couldn't tell, it looked like the halls he'd come to know so well, but when was he looking at them now?

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." Jamie looked concerned as Jack pushed himself to a sitting position, leaning against the wall for support. "I'm going to get the Doctor, he'll want to know that we picked up a stowaway."

"Not really a stowaway," Jack corrected. "More of a stowawhen."

"Sorry?" His kilt shifted as he knelt down next to Jack. A kilt, Jack thought, that explained the accent. Or maybe the accent explains the kilt...

"I take it you travel with the Doctor. I do too." Jack rubbed the back of his neck, trying to organize his thoughts. "The same Doctor, but at different times in his life. We travel together in the TARDIS, and the TARDIS..."

"The TARDIS travels in time and space. It's not always the most reliable of machines, especially when the Doctor flies it." Jamie's eyes were wide and solemn; Jack wondered what feelings for the Doctor were hiding behind them.

"Sometimes," Jack admitted, keeping his voice low, "she doesn't like the way the Doctor treats her. He acts like he knows what he's doing but all these sparks will fly from the console..."

"Aye, and he gets mighty offended if you suggest things didn't quite work the way he planned." Then Jamie laughed, a beautiful sound, carefree in a way Jack hadn't been in longer than he'd cared to admit.

"It doesn't sound like he's changed his ways much, then." Jack didn't laugh, but he did smile. And it wasn't a 'this con is going to work' or 'trust me I'm the Captain' smile, but a real one.

"And, you're saying you travel with the Doctor - just like I do - but in another time?"

"Exactly." Dear God, was he ever that trusting? "Lately, I've heard... things, when walking the halls late at night. It's like time was bleeding through, and I was experiencing things that slipped through the cracks from one TARDIS to another."

Jamie just nodded, taking everything Jack was saying in stride, how the Doctor must have appreciated that in a traveling companion. "Jack?" Concern leached into his voice. "You don't look well."

"To be truthful," not that being truthful was something he had a lot of experience with, "I'm not feeling that well." Jack knew he was shivering, but he felt hot. And Jamie kept swimming in and out of focus.

"I should get the Doctor." Jamie rested his hand on Jack's shoulder. "You need help."

"I won't be here when you get back." Jack grabbed onto Jamie's hand for a moment, a port of cool confidence in the storm raging around him. "My timestream is slipping out of yours. I can feel it. Will you... will you keep an eye on your Doctor, for me? Try to keep him safe?"

"Of course!" The indignation said it all, the Doctor wouldn't be harmed, not on Jamie's watch.

"Thank you." It was a whisper, but it took all the strength he had. He closed his eyes as nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

"Will you do the same for me?" Jamie sounded so sincere, so far away.

Jack wanted to answer, but he couldn't open his mouth. So he quickly nodded, hoping Jamie could see, would know he'd do his best. He was so cold, and the colors were back, swirling every which way.

When the colors receded he sensed a figure next to him. "Jamie?" he rasped finally.

"Jack?" No Scots accent there, it was familiar, Northern. There was a rustle of leather and a hand on his back. "You alright?"

"Doctor?"

"Yeah, Jack. You with me?" Jack could hear the concern, and the smile, in his voice.

"Always, Doctor. Always."


End file.
